


Blanket

by Sternenstaub



Series: How to possess a Warden [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:23:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sternenstaub/pseuds/Sternenstaub
Summary: Zevran thinks back about how he met his beloved.Loosely connected to my Story Nobody expects the..... Warden?





	Blanket

Zevran rarely slept before his Warden went to bed but now and then he liked to pretend he did. He liked the feeling of safety, the knowledge, he could close his eyes, bare his back and nothing would happen. To hear the clicking of needles and the swishing of wool, when his Surana once again crocheted a little something for a child they had met on their travels. Himself having snuggled down in 3 different blankets, all smelling like his heart.

The one who had changed his live. Sometimes he still dreamed about the crows, about his childhood and training. The coldness in his bones and heart. He had never known to be alone, because he never knew you could feel any different. Had never known to be worth something and willing to be thrown away for a greater goal. Not until he met her.

 

That day he had been so sure of his end. Even if he never expected to be welcomed at the makers bosom, he at least surmised the coldness would end. And then, when he thought everything had come to it´s final conclusion, he woke up in the mud, being stared down by an elf, threatened with a blue flame instead of a dagger as he had been used to. 

The women´s blue eyes were glowing cold with rage and distrust, her hair had been loosened by the fight and the long and hard features made her not look ordinary beautiful. But she still was. Beautiful the way a snow storm was. Dangerous, exciting. And most importantly not like he had imagined his end to look like.

 

And Zevran had decided to try living again. Not because of the woman in front of him but because the prospect of dying seemed so much more terrifying now that it would not happen in the midst of an exhilarating fight but rather by being burned at a stake. 

And he flirted, he flirted for his live and because that was the one thing he had always excelled at at the training.

And nobody was more surprised than himself, when the cold eyes suddenly turned warm and the ropes on his hands didn´t hurt. Actually, he would have been able to free himself easily. The way she looked at him, she knew that as well but didn´t say a thing. That was the first time someone trusted his word just like that. 

 

She was a stranger but believed he would not kill them all at night. In that moment something cracked in his chest. A small blossom of warmth took roots. 

The camp, the people he had tried ambushing and killing, were arguing over him, asking for his head on a pike. And she was defending him! Him! she did not know him at all, just had his word and still didn´t want him dead. Even more, she loosened his ropes right in front of the others, gave him a piece of her bread, ripping it off her own, so he knew it would be safe to eat, and sat down next to him.

 

They sat in silence for a minute, seemingly ignoring the idignated noises around them, while in reality Zevran still feared they would kill him. This woman was the only thing between him and his death, because he would not fight for himself. He had been sent on this mission to either come back successful or not at all. Dying by the hands of strangers seemed more appealing than death by teachers and friends.

 

After he had eaten, she started talking. Asked him what his mission had been, why he had attacked the way he did and how he had known their route. Entirely professional questions she asked without a hint of accusation in them. Once again he was surprised. He tried to put in a flirt or sultry look in the conversation now and then, his life depended on her sympathy, but she didn´t react like he was used to. Didn´t blush or look at him like something to be conquered.

She was entirely pleasant and professional. It was infuriating and maybe scratching a bit on his pride.

 

It took him days to believe he would not be killed and weeks until he realized he sometimes could even say his mind, disagree with others without bringing his life in peril once again. He still slept with his back to a tree and never more than 2 hours in the same place.

 

And he still flirted with the Warden. Bella, as she asked him to call her. She was a surprisingly interesting conversation partner. Zevran had gotten so used to being desired as a thing or having to plan the assassination of his opposite, he had forgotten that talking could be pleasant, more than a game. Her eyes glowed warmer, when he talked about himself, about his childhood and the crows. She never pitied him, instead she was a pillar of support he didn´t know he had needed. And always he brushed her off with a joke or flirt, not knowing how else to react.

 

Sometimes he thought she flirted back but he could never be sure.

She did not shy away if he laid a hand on her arm or shoulder, told him about her childhood as well. He felt like they were starting to become friends. A strange feeling he hadn´t known before, not like this, without the overarching threat of death and betrayal over them.

Of course, he still had to fight, was in peril more times than he thought possible but always a shard of ice or a fire ball were at his back, not once hitting him.

 

The first time they held hands wasn´t his doing, he hadn´t worked up the nerve to ask, too insecure about her feelings, too afraid to be pushed away or laughed at. She had not once shown actual desire towards him but she still sought his advice, sat at camp near him and talked to him a great deal more than any other companion. She liked him, he was almost sure of that, but why then didn´t she want him? He would have spent the night in her tent in a heartbeat. A lover was so much harder to abandon than a friend. 

But she seemed resistant to his charm. 

Thus he was quite surprised when Bella slowly took his hand in hers, giving him enough time to take it back with a joke and never again talk about it. But he didn´t. She took his hand with a slight blush on her cheeks and his heart skipped a beat. But no, he didn´t feel romantic attachment, he didn´t do these things. She ignored his sultry looks and open proposal to spent the night somewhere more private and just held his hand, talking to him like nothing was unusual about that. That night Zevran had the strangest dreams.

 

Their first kiss was just as strange, short and sweet and without her dragging him into a bush afterwards. He didn´t know whether to be baffled or insulted. Was he not desirable any longer? But then again, it was refreshing to be more than a body someone wanted to conquer. Not that he actually admitted that to himself. He didn´t do feelings.

 

The first time Bella actually did invite him into his tent, Zevran thought things were finally back to normal, back to the way he was taught them supposed to be. But alas, of course they were not. She wanted to talk, held his hands and told him she liked him a great deal. With that adorable blush on her cheeks and hope in her eyes. The same eyes that had terrified him at first were now laying their feeling at his feet, for him to decide what to do. And chicken that he was, he made a joke and ran away. He didn´t do feelings. He wouldn´t be broken once again when she decided she didn´t want him any longer. And he was sure, he would be left behind somewhere along the way. Maybe soon she wouldn´t feel like saving his back from a hurlock or just felt like he bored her. Maybe she would prefer a rogue who could open locks better than talk or just wanted something new. But he knew this couldn´t go on.

 

The next few days his warden looked sad. Nobody else saw it, but the happy glint in her eyes, the light he had always appreciated so much, had dimmed down. Was that his fault? It couldn´t be, he never had had such an impact on another person.

Those nights he couldn´t sleep, he was restless, more than in the first nights when he expected people to attack him at any given minute. Something felt off. And a few days later he realized it were all those little touches he missed. The little nudge on his shoulder, when Bella thought he said something ridiculous, the short touch on his face when she made sure he hadn´t hurt himself after a fight, brushing his hair out of his eyes when they talked, their hands mingling while they told stories at the campfire.

He tried to make things right again, tried giving her his earring, telling her it was special, but he mucked up again, still not admitting he had feelings for her.

 

And he still missed his warden. A bit more everyday. Until one day he couldn´t stand it any longer. He would not sit every evening, brooding over his demise without trying to get her back. She may die in her fight and would have never known he what he felt. 

 

That night he laid down an intricate plan. In his head everything seemed so easy and clear. He would give her his earring once again, she would smile and the light in her eyes would come back.

 

The next time she sat alone at camp, he approached her, more skittish than usual, his heart was beating hundred miles a minute and he felt like a little crow before his first assassination.

 

His carefully laid out plan just flew away the second he saw the hope in her eyes. 

He had been trained to be suave and charming, to entice, but in that moment everything he could remember was the way his chest felt when she touched him, when her eyes only saw him and he stuttered out his feelings. It was a slow, painful speech, without a trace of elegance. Zevran had never blushed like this in his whole life.

 

And the light in her eyes returned. She smiled at him, took his hand and led him into her tent. Once again things didn´t happen the way Zevran had expected them too. But he didn´t have it within himself to complain, with an armful of warden cuddled between warm blankets all night. He had never felt more comfortable.

 

The next day he wasn´t alone at breakfast any longer, his hand didn´t feel cold and his shoulder was nudged playfully once again.

Every night he got a small kiss and fell asleep surrounded by the wardens smell. She made him a blanket after he had snatched hers one too many times and gave it to him with a smile. It was the best gift he had ever received, even better than his gloves.

 

It was that blanket he was currently snuggled in, listening to Bella crochet, knowing he was safe and loved. Knowing the world didn´t depend on them any longer. With a sleepy smile he snuggled closer when he felt her climbing into bed, cuddling on his back. Who would have known he actually had died that fateful day and was now in heaven?


End file.
